


it's just breakfast

by screamlet



Category: Boy Meets World, Girl Meets World
Genre: Breakfast, Multi, Polyamory, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-03
Updated: 2015-12-03
Packaged: 2018-05-04 15:39:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5339483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/screamlet/pseuds/screamlet





	it's just breakfast

**Author's Note:**

  * For [waldorph](https://archiveofourown.org/users/waldorph/gifts).
  * Inspired by [it's family time](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2772884) by [screamlet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/screamlet/pseuds/screamlet). 



**1.** ****

Maya wasn’t exactly sure how the whole… Shawn actually being around and her full-time guardian… thing would work on a daily basis. Like today, a Monday, the start of the first week she had slept in her own room in this apartment above Riley’s, when she was wide awake two hours before they usually left for school. 

She was always up at this time, though. This was about the time, when she was sleeping in Riley’s bed, that she would turn away from Riley and to the bay window and stare at the scene outside, keeping her eyes open as long as possible until she _had_ to blink. Some mornings, a squirrel liked to walk by on the railing of the fire escape and stop and stare at her before it went on its stupid squirrel way. 

Different window, different fire escape, same squirrel wondering if it was lost because here, also, was the weird creature with the huge eyes who liked to stare. 

She checked the fridge last night when she came up from the Matthews’ place—they had stuff for breakfast, cereal and toast and eggs and frozen meats and frozen fruits and even a couple of pieces of real fruit and, yeah, they even had a blender, a spare Topanga had brought upstairs once the apartment became Shawn’s and she didn’t have to hide their second blender under the sink anymore. How did adults _do that_? How did they get a blender, let alone two? If she made a smoothie and it woke Shawn up, would he be upset? Would that be rude? Would it be like a passive-aggressive thing, like she was demanding Shawn wake up and pay attention to her when all she wanted was breakfast before school? If she made breakfast for herself, would she have to make breakfast for Shawn? If she went downstairs and had breakfast with Riley (like she usually did), would it be like she was ungrateful for everything in this apartment and Shawn being here? Would Shawn even _be awake_ to see her off to school? Was that part of their agreement? Or was he just a money guy and a punch in the arm _way to go, kiddo_ guy? Why was this a thing? Why was this terrifying? Why didn’t they have oatmeal? Oatmeal was silent and she could eat it in her room with the door closed, and she could clean the dish and put it back before anyone noticed that—

There was a knock at the door.

“Maya, you up?” Shawn asked through the door.

“Uh, not really,” she called back.

“Oh, okay,” he said. “I’m gonna make breakfast for us—you want anything special?”

“Um, I don’t know,” she called back.

“Okay,” he said. “Well, we’ve got bread and butter and eggs and—”

Maya got out of bed and opened the door to Shawn, dressed in his usual jeans-and-blazer uniform, hair wet from the shower, beard trimmed, awake and a little terrified to see her.

“Oh, you’re up,” he said. “Is… what’s your usual routine? What do—whatever you usually do, we’ll do that, okay?” He checked his watch. “Actually, it’s early enough that if you get dressed, we can probably go to that breakfast counter on the next block and get someone _else_ to make us breakfast, and still make it back here. Cory said you and Riley head out around 6:45, and the MTA already has some shit backing up the 4/5/6 so you’ll probably—”

“Breakfast outside is good,” Maya said. “I’m really quick getting ready so we can head out in 20.”

“Yeah, yeah, take your time, there’s no rush,” Shawn said as he went back to his room. “Oh! Maybe they deliver? Is that a thing? Does Seamless run this early?” He wrinkled his nose a little. “Actually, I don’t know if I want to be a person who Seamlesses in New York before dawn. Is that weird? It feels like a yuppie thing. Do yuppies still exist?”

“Only in old movies,” Maya said. “Be right back, I’ll get ready.”

“Old movies!” Shawn said. “I’m—I’m not old.”

Maya emerged from her room again, loaded up with her outfit and towels a thousand other things she kept in her room, not the bathroom. “Spoken like someone who’s old,” she said.

“Hey if you—” Shawn ran his fingers through his hair and motioned to the bathroom. “There’s two bathrooms in this place and that one’s yours—mine’s connected to my room so you should really just like, totally take over that one.”

“You watched _Clueless_ a lot as a kid, didn’t you?” Maya asked.

“I’ll have you know it was a formative cinematic experience,” Shawn said.

Maya nodded and stepped into the bathroom. “I’m working on it,” Maya said. “I’ll just—I just want to keep my stuff in my room for now. If that’s okay.”

He nodded. “I know, I just—I thought I’d keep saying it. It helps to keep saying it. This place is yours, okay?”

She nodded again and shut herself in the bathroom, running the shower immediately and trying to let the steam open her lungs.

* * *

**2.**

It was a bad morning, just—just a bad fucking morning coming off Maya and Shawn’s first all-nighter as they worked on Maya’s English paper due that morning. 

“I hate my paper,” Maya said, her face flat on their kitchen table. “I hate _The Outsiders_. I hate writing. I hate words. I hate everything.”

“I know, I know, they’re just the fucking worst,” Shawn said as he took yesterday’s blazer off a chair and put it on again. “I promise, writing gets better when it’s not high school.” 

Shawn paused, then corrected himself. “Or college. College writing was bad, too, but that might have been Mr. Feeney’s fault.” Shawn shook his head and said, “Look, you know what, school is just terrible, it’s the absolute worst. Don’t tell Cory. But we’re gonna get through this. Go get dressed, I’ll print your paper and we’ll get breakfast downstairs at Cory’s.”

“I hate school I hate school I hate school,” Maya chanted as she ran into her room and slammed the door.

“It’s a necessary evil and I’m sorry you can’t appreciate that right now!” Shawn called back. 

Their shitty home printer jammed twice and there was a vertical line running down each page of Maya’s English essay, but hopefully that wouldn’t matter—it was done, it was printed, there was a neat staple in the top left corner and everything was formatted according to the very detailed 8th grade essay guidelines. They would have breakfast downstairs and it would all be okay.

Maya emerged again and Shawn handed her the essay. She flipped through it and stuffed it into her English folder and stuffed that into her backpack.

“Freeloaders’ breakfast?” Maya asked.

“You got everything?” Shawn asked. “No secret trig theorems that needed solving this morning?”

“What’s trig?” Maya asked.

“I’m sorry for the future, I’m so sorry,” Shawn said as he grabbed his keys and phone and followed her out the door. 

Downstairs, Riley was keeping Maya’s bowl of oatmeal and fruit warm with her sunshine smile.

“Did Maya finish her essay, Shawn?” Riley asked sweetly.

“Of course she did, it's been done for days, Riley,” Shawn said as Maya ran across the room and dove for her oatmeal. “We were just proofreading it last night, then had a nice leisurely game of Uno, and she got a whole ten hours of sleep. She wrote a great paper.”

Shawn was so close to Cory and toast and coffee, and then Topanga came out of her study. 

Shawn stopped because Topanga came out of her study and Mr. Turner followed. He seemed taller than Shawn remembered him because Mr. Turner had to duck to avoid hitting his head on the doorway, and also because it had been almost 20 years since he had last seen Mr. Turner (lying unconscious in a hospital bed after his motorcycle accident but who’s counting?)

“Shawn Hunter,” Mr. Turner said. “Did I hear you talking about an essay? About _proofreading_ an _essay_?”

“What the hell are you doing here?” Shawn asked. “Sorry, what the hell are you doing here, in New York, in Cory’s apartment, this early in the morning, also _ever_?”

“Oh, it’s a long story,” Riley piped in. “Our English teacher fired for teaching comic books and then Dad got fired, too, so then we went to the superintendent and—”

“Haha, sweetie,” Cory said as he pat Riley’s hair and looked around the room. “When you say _it’s a long story_ , you don’t have to _tell_ the whole long story, especially when it’s a long story that Shawn needs to hear from me and maybe _not_ when Mr. Turner’s in the room.”

Mr. Turner came closer to Shawn, but stopped when Shawn took a step back.

“What Matthews is trying to clean up for the pre-teen crowd,” Mr. Turner said, “Is that I owe him—on your behalf—so Topanga’s charging the school district out the nose to help me out with some contract law. Gotta meet with some bigwigs today so I dropped by to see the lady.”

Shawn said nothing.

“I’ve heard from this one,” Mr. Turner said, motioning to Cory. “You’ve done good. Writer, photographer, awards and everything.”

“Maya, I have to walk you to school now,” Shawn said, his eyes fixed on Mr. Turner. “I’ve got your bag, let’s go.”

“Shawnie, hold on, we’ll come with you,” Cory said as he stood up. “I should’ve told you, but I—there wasn’t a good time—”

“No, there never is,” Shawn said. He picked up Maya’s backpack from the floor and he was surprised that she actually followed him. 

Outside, Shawn took a brisk pace to the subway, but stopped when Maya shouted for him to slow down. 

“Hey, have you seen the platforms I wear?” Maya called out. “I can’t keep up.”

“I’m sorry,” Shawn said. “And I’m sorry for that upstairs I just—I needed to get out. I needed to go. Mr. Turner and I—”

“Yeah, that was something,” Maya said. They started walking again, slower this time, and Maya took her backpack from Shawn. “All Riley and I know is that he was one of the two or three teachers you and Matthews have ever had in your life, and he took care of you for a while?”

“Middle school English teacher,” Shawn said. “Mr. Feeney’s always been there for us, for me especially when I needed to collapse into a sobbing mess at someone’s feet and Cory was, I don’t know, having a normal life without me for five minutes. Mr. Turner was our cool teacher, though—”

“Yeah, like our English teacher now,” Maya said. “That’s 100% of the reason why Mr. Turner didn’t fire her for teaching us with comics.”

“Oh wow,” Shawn laughed. “Wow, wow, really? Wow. She taught you comic books? Really?” 

He turned to look at her and realized he couldn’t really hide that on this terrible morning, he had completely fallen apart on a sidewalk in the middle of the Village. 

“Anyone ever tries to tell you that—I don’t know, that history _doesn’t_ repeat itself, or that things will _ever_ change, that—god, are you serious? She teaches you with comic books?”

“Apparently they’re called graphic novels now,” Maya said. She was trying so hard to keep smiling for him and that just broke Shawn even more.

“I’m sorry,” Shawn said. “I’m sorry. So. I should explain.”

And he did—about his dad running off for what he thought was the last time, just as he started high school, and Mr. Turner literally took him into his apartment because he had nothing to eat in the trailer park and it was a hard year for Cory’s dad at the store, so they literally couldn’t afford to take in another kid, even one who tried to make himself invisible like Shawn could. 

“And life with Mr. Turner was good for about five minutes, until he got into an accident on his motorcycle and I literally never saw him again,” Shawn said. “Until just now.”

Shawn looked up because he had a ninth or tenth sense about this sort of thing, and he was right: Cory and Riley were standing a few feet away. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” Cory said. “Shawnie, please.”

“Not your fault,” Shawn said. He was biting his lip and still refused to meet anyone’s eyes, not Maya’s or Cory’s or even Riley’s. “Not your fault, Cor, it’s okay, I’m fine.”

“I should’ve told you,” Cory said as he stepped closer. “I’m so sorry. I used him, though. It’s not much, but it’s something.”

Shawn took a step towards him, then threw himself at Cory, wrapping his arms around Cory and holding on as hard as he could.

“He should’ve told me,” Shawn said. “He should’ve said something, he should’ve—why didn’t he call or write? It’s been twenty fucking years and he’s alive—why didn’t he come back for me?”

“You think I don’t tell him that every time I see him?” Cory asked. “You think I don’t wake up sometimes, dying in the middle of the night, because I can’t understand how anyone could ever be stupid enough to leave you? Never again, Shawn, I promise, okay? Never again.”

Cory’s fingers were in his hair and Shawn slowly came back to himself, his 36-year-old self, the guy with one apartment and two partners and three kids and non-expired orange juice in his fridge and utilities getting paid on time every month. 

“Hey,” Cory said. “There’s a cab coming. Let’s take the girls to school and I’ll get a sub today, okay? Ooh, I’ll ask them to get Mr. Martinez. I’ll show you his Facebook, you won’t _believe_ how cute he is.”

“Oh my god,” Shawn laughed. “How is that going to help?”

“Shawnie, believe me,” Cory said. “He is _so cute_. I’m deliriously happy with my partners but this guy is movie star beautiful. Like he literally stepped on the wrong lot in a movie studio and ended up on _our_ stupid show instead of an _Avengers_ movie or something. He’s un _real_.”

Shawn pulled away and for a second, Maya could see the picture the Matthews kept front and center in their photo collection—the fourteen-year-old with floppy hair stood right across from her, wiping his eyes on a well-mended old blazer, pulling himself together piece by piece.

“So,” Shawn said to Maya and Riley, Cory off in the street hailing a cab. “I’m sorry. That wasn’t exactly—not like a vote of confidence for me in this whole adulthood thing, I know, but—”

“Please shut up,” Riley said as she ran to hug Shawn. 

Shawn wrapped an arm around her and looked to Maya. “I’m sorry,” he said.

“Don’t be,” Maya said. “We’re gonna be okay.”

“We are,” Shawn said. “We’re gonna be okay.”

“Because Matthews is probably gonna kill Mr. Turner and become the new superintendent,” Maya finished. 

“I like this a lot,” Riley cried. “Or maybe Mom can run him out of town.”

“That does sound like Topanga,” Shawn said. 

The cab pulled up and Riley released Shawn from her clutches so she could join Cory by the curb. 

“I’m okay,” Shawn said to Maya. “I promise. He can’t surprise me again.”

Maya hugged him and then shoved him towards Cory and the waiting cab. “Come on, me and Riley have papers to hand in, let’s get a move on, it’s a school day, Hunter.”

“She’s so much better at the tough guy thing than I am,” Shawn said to Cory.

“Thank god,” Cory said. “I can only deal with one Maya at a time, so get in. I wasn’t kidding. We’re dropping the kids off and then we’re going to the park and we’re gonna look at dogs.”

“Dad I’m sad too I wanna look at dogs,” Riley said.

“That’s what weekends are for, sweetie,” Cory said as he climbed in the cab with them.

* * *

**3.**

Shawn woke up with a start and with Cory draped across his chest and wisps of Topanga’s hair against his cheek and ear.

“What time is it,” he whispered. “Don’t the kids have—shit, it’s Saturday.”

“Haha,” Topanga laughed from his other side. “Cory owes me dinner. He was sure your _kids have to get to school_ nightmare would happen way earlier than it did. I think your brain hates you so it lulled you into a very long false sense of security.”

Shawn turned his head to look at Topanga and kiss her cheek. “It’s Saturday, right? Please say it’s Saturday.”

She picked up one of the phones from the nightstand and showed him: Saturday.

“Thank god,” he sighed. “Also, Cory’s dead, so I can ask—shouldn’t they be doing like, extracurriculars for college and things?”

“Really?” Topanga asked. “You’re asking me this on a _Saturday_? Go back to sleep, please.”

“What if I don’t win some Nobel prize money before Maya has to pay for college?” Shawn whispered. 

“We’ll look at need-blind admission schools. Also, maybe don’t bank on a Nobel before you’re 70,” Topanga said. “Besides, those are only for fiction; you’re only writing nonfiction.”

“Goddammit,” Shawn sighed. “That need-blind thing sounds like it could work, though.”

“Or the total collapse of civilization into one of those super hot teen dystopias,” Topanga said. “I’d be okay with rebuilding civilization if it meant my student loans were wiped from existence.”

“Okay, and _how long_ have you been awake?” Shawn asked. 

“I never sleep,” Topanga said. She ran her fingers through his hair and said, “Go back to sleep.”

“Or,” Shawn said. “We make breakfast.”

Shawn twisted his neck to glance at Topanga again and saw she was checking emails on her phone already. 

“Babe, it’s not even 6 AM,” Topanga said. “The partners at my firm with older teenagers said this is when they start sleeping like ten and eleven hours on weekends, so breakfast _now_ is just going to go to waste, and Cory’s still a corpse.”

Shawn gently moved his hand to Cory’s neck, just to check for a pulse and make sure the heavy dead weight was only a very overworked and tired figure of speech. Good, still alive.

Topanga put her phone away and settled against him, his head against her chest, her fingers still running through his hair. 

“You make a compelling argument for not waking up just yet,” Shawn said.

“Enjoy it while you can,” Topanga said. 

Just as Shawn was nodding off, Cory woke up and sat up. “Are we up now? I felt you guys talking. I’m gonna make coffee, do you guys want coffee, too? I’ll have coffee.”

“He was like, dead a minute ago,” Shawn said when, somehow, Cory had gotten dressed and closed the bedroom door behind him in only 15 seconds. “How did that happen? When did _he_ become the super awake in the morning one? _What_?”

“Okay, I’m serious,” Topanga said. “We go back to sleep right now, because once Cory starts the coffee maker, Auggie wakes up, and once Auggie wakes up, the TV goes on, and once the TV goes on—”

“No, I get it, I’m with you, I’m team bed, I’m totally convinced,” Shawn said. 

He slipped out of bed and relocked the bedroom door, then climbed back into bed behind Topanga, wrapping both of them up in the sheets and comforter. 

“Can you believe how much of our lives we’ve known each other, and how much of our lives we’ve spent spent _not_ doing this?” Shawn asked her hair.

“I know,” Topanga said. “We were so stupid. Living in Philadelphia didn’t help, like at _all_.”

“Let’s never go back,” Shawn said. “Thank god you got that NYU scholarship.”

“Do you remember those five or ten minutes you thought you weren’t coming with us?” Topanga asked. “And I had to literally pack your bag and throw it at you before you realized, oh, of course we’re not leaving you behind in Philadelphia?”

“I really thought I was staying,” Shawn said. “I was really that stupid.”

“We know better now,” Topanga said. She took Shawn’s hand and brought it around so it rested on her chest. His fingers moved between her breasts and up to her collarbone, idly brushing his thumb along her skin. “You’ll have to do a lot better than crying helplessly in Cory’s family’s kitchen if you want to lose us for real.”

“Hey,” Cory’s voice hissed through the door. “Guys, I brought coffee in the big thermos. Guys, you locked the door. Let me back in—I swear, none of the kids are—oh hi Auggie. Did I wake you up? You should go back to sleep. Daddy’s going back to bed, I promise, you’re not missing anything.”

“Haha,” Topanga laughed. “We married an idiot.”

Shawn laughed to himself softly as he fell asleep again. 

* * *

**4.**  

It was morning and Maya's usual squirrel ran by on the railing of the fire escape. The squirrel stopped and looked at her, then ran off. It looked a lot lighter outside than it usually did at this time of year. Maybe the squirrel brought spring with it. Maybe it was Saturday. Maybe her phone died in the night and her backup alarm did, too, and she was missing school today, and maybe when she woke up there just wouldn't be school anymore and she and Riley and the family could join an artists' caravan and troll around post-apocalyptic America finding little bits of art and civilization wherever they could. Maybe it was Sunday. 

"You shouldn't come in, Riles, she's burning up, I don't know if it's contagious," a voice said behind her. Shawn was there. Shawn was home.

"Shawn, is it Saturday?" Maya asked. 

"I'm gonna put a bag over my head and come in here!" Riley said. 

"That's—Riley, that's literally the only thing it says on bags— _don't put over your head_ —"

"I'm here," Riley said as she appeared in front of Maya's face. "Are you dying? Please don't be dying. I have my phone and I'm going to find a demon I can sell my soul to so I can save your life, okay?"

"You know we have medicine here in the 21st century, right?" Shawn asked. "I think it's just a reaction to the flu shot, Riley, she'll be fine. Keep your soul. Do _not_ google demons."

"I have the flu?" Maya asked. She turned slightly and saw Shawn standing over her. "Oh. I got a flu shot."

"We got them yesterday, remember?" Riley asked. She turned back up to Shawn. "Is she losing her memory? Is that what happens when you head into the light?" She clutched Maya's face, her cold hands on Maya's hot cheeks. "DON'T GO INTO THE LIGHT. I CAN SAVE YOU."

"Okay, you're freaking me out, I'm calling your parents," Shawn said. "Maya, do what she says. If there's a light, stay away from it. Riley, google the flu."

"How can I google in my last moments with my best friend and soulmate?" Riley asked.

"Oh, I got a flu shot," Maya repeated. "It was my first one. I never had the flu before. Or a flu shot. Am I sick because I'm poor? Maybe I should never take medicine because medicine makes me sick."

"Maya, that's capitalism and our bastard patchwork health care system talking, not actual science," Shawn said from the other side of the room. "Cory and Topanga are coming up once they've ransacked their home pharmacy." 

"No, why are they coming?" Maya asked Riley. "Your parents have work."

"We can be late," Riley said. "We have history first thing, I bet I can get excused from history."

Maya laughed. "Your dad's gonna be so mad you're late for his class."

Shawn appeared again and handed Riley a thermometer. "Stick this under her arm and wait for it to beep, okay?"

"I'll do anything for Maya," Riley said.

"Okay, good," Shawn said. "Start with taking her temperature, maybe you can get her a glass of water next."

"I can't leave her _side_ ," Riley cried. 

"Then take her temperature and _I'll_ get her some water," Shawn said. "And a cold compress. I saw that in a movie, I think. Did they have the flu in _Little Women_? No, it was that other thing. Scarlet fever! That's not the flu, right?"

Maya drifted off to sleep and woke up at Riley's dad's voice.

"How long was I asleep?" she asked Riley. "Why aren't you at school yet?"

"You were asleep for three seconds," Riley whispered. "Was it a good sleep?"

"So good," Maya said. "Three seconds was perfect."

"Me and Riley had this a few years ago after our flu shots," Cory said as he dropped a Duane Reade bag on Maya's nightstand. "It's not the flu, it's like the flu lite, it only lasts for a day or so. Lots of water, lots of cold compresses—no aspirin, okay? If Maya gets those flu aches, _only_ give her ibuprofen. There's some crazy syndrome that kids can get if they take aspirin before they're 25, it literally kills them."

"You're freaking me out, Cor, can you skip to literally anything else?" Shawn asked. "Why is this the first time I'm hearing about aspirin being fatal for most of your life?"

"Because it mostly kills girls and no one cares about girls so _we_ have to care about girls," Cory said. "Okay, and I have this expectorant in case she's coughing a lot and congested. If she's coughing a lot but can't breathe, like she's not bringing anything up, the best thing is to run a hot shower and let her sit in there and just breathe the steam. And drink lots of water. _She_ has to drink lots of water, not you, you can drink whatever you want. Did I say the cold compresses thing?"

"Her temperature's 103," Riley announced. "Well, 102.8, which is like 103, right?"

"Right," Cory said. "If it hits 104, take her to the ER."

Topanga rolled Shawn's entire tv table into Maya's room and started to set it up across from Maya's bed. "Where are your outlets in here? Cory, stop scaring Shawn. Shawn, she's going to be fine. She just needs water and an entire day of TV and she'll be fine."

"Topanga, I have a laptop," Maya said. 

"Yes, but I brought you a tv," Topanga said. "Isn't that better than a laptop?"

Auggie appeared and dropped five remotes on Maya. "I brought you these. Happy birthday. Give me the flu so I can skip school."

Cory picked up Auggie and held him sideways under his arm as he talked to Shawn. 

"Your blu-ray's a hostage," Auggie said as he waved a last remote at Maya. 

"Your blu-ray's a postage," Maya said. "Ha, letters."

Auggie looked confused and threw the last remote on Maya's bed, washing his hands of the whole thing.

"Hey guys," Maya said. "Guys. I have. There's a question from me."

Shawn sat on the edge of her bed and pushed her hair off her face. "What is it? It's just a fever, you're gonna be fine."

"No, it's just," Maya said. "I saw this commercial once. Late at night. It was for old people. It was called WebTV. Is that real? Did you used to get the internet on your tv's? Like, the whole internet? Were computers as big as tv's once?"

Topanga laughed so hard she snorted.

"No, sweetie," Topanga said. "WebTV isn't real anymore, I promise. Where's your phone charger? Riley can plug it into the outlet behind your nightstand so you don't have to get up."

"I just use Riley's," Maya sighed as she closed her eyes again. "Or yours. I steal your power. And souls."

She woke up hours later, or maybe not, because the adults were still talking outside her room and Riley was plugging something into the outlet behind Maya's head. 

"You have school," Maya said.

"We're going now," Riley said. "I'll text you every ten minutes, okay?"

"No you won't," Cory said. "Only between classes, Riley."

"Right, of course, Dad," Riley said. She looked to Maya and held up her ten fingers. "You won't miss a thing."

"Shawn, help me lift this armchair to bring it into Maya's room," Topanga called from the living room.

"Maya weighs nothing, we could have brought _her_ to the living room," Shawn called back. 

"I saw Maya was sick and I panicked and started moving whole furniture sets, okay, and it's too late to move everything back  _now_ , so help me move this chair before I do it myself," Topanga said. "A girl needs her bed when she's sick."

"Riley, come on, we have to get to school," Cory said. 

"Okay," Riley said. "Maya, you're gonna be okay."

"'Course I am," Maya said. "I'm gonna take all the aspirin—"

"NO ASPIRIN," Cory and Riley and Auggie echoed at her.

"Wow, that was intense," Maya said. "Can you do it again? It was really cool. Like a wind tunnel."

"Why are we yelling about aspirin again?" Shawn asked as he and Topanga shoved an arm chair through the door frame of Maya's room. "Guys, I don't think I even own aspirin."

"I'll check your cabinets and throw it all away," Topanga said. "You can re-buy it when Maya's 25 or 30 or whenever you enter those prime heart attack years."

"Oh, like _now_?" Shawn asked.

Maya drifted off again. When she opened her eyes, hours or seconds later, the room was quiet and Shawn was scrolling through Netflix. She shifted slightly and he turned his head to smile at her.

"Riley said you were asking how long you were asleep for and this time it was about seven whole minutes," Shawn said.

"Everyone's gone," Maya said. "Are they gonna be late for work?"

"Oh, they almost stayed, every single one of them," Shawn said. "But I told them I'd take care of you. It's not even the flu, just flu lite. The internet said it happens sometimes when you get a flu shot. It's just your body checking to make sure it can fight the flu... by getting the flu and fighting it off a little."

"Okay," Maya said. "You don't have to stay, I can lie here by myself."

"Well, luckily, Topanga moved almost the entire apartment in here, except for the fridge and the stove, so I'm just gonna work in here while you sleep-watch some Netflix," Shawn said. "That okay?"

"Sure," Maya said. 

"How's your cold compress?" Shawn asked. "Still cold?"

"Can I get one for my face, too?" Maya asked. "Oh, what if I unfold it and just put it on my face."

"Well, don't do that," Shawn said. "Hold on, I'll get you another one so you don't lie there like a mummy breathing in washcloth until you pass out."

"Is that how they made mummies?" Maya asked. "Can we watch something about Egypt? Or mummies? Or old stuff? Or trees? Or space?"

She closed her eyes and opened them again when there was a cold weight on her cheek. She looked up and there was Shawn, pushing her hair out of her face again.

"Do you have like, headbands anywhere? Or a hair tie? This can't be comfortable," Shawn said.

"They're on my dresser," Maya yawned. 

Shawn brought her five headbands and thirty hair ties, but she only took one and loosely tied her hair back into a bun without lifting her head from her pillow.

"Nailed it," Maya announced. "Can we watch _Cosmos_? It has all those things. Mummies and space and trees. I think it has mummies. I don't care. It has space. And Neil's voice is so great."

"Neil?" Shawn asked. "I didn't know you and Neil DeGrasse Tyson were so close."

"Me and NDT," Maya said. "A few years ago, Riley's family took us to the planetarium at the Museum of Natural History because he was giving a talk. I asked a question and he threw a t-shirt at me because it was such a good question."

"What was the question?" Shawn asked.

"I don't know," Maya said. "Super smart, I bet. Cuz I got a t-shirt from Neil Ty the Space Guy."

"I'm texting everyone that," Shawn said. "You'll laugh about it later."

"Are you really gonna stay with me?" Maya asked. "You don't have to stay."

Maya closed her eyes, but opened them again when someone held her hand. Shawn was leaning out of his chair to reach out and hold her hand. 

"I'm staying with you," Shawn said. "I promise. I'm not going to leave you."

"But Shawn," Maya said seriously. "We haven't had breakfast. What if I want soup? What if I want _breakfast_ soup?" Maya asked. 

Shawn ducked his head down and laughed, then squeezed her hand. "If you want soup, I'll leave for five minutes, tops, and get you soup. Topanga brought up like, fifty cans of tomato soup that she was hoarding for the apocalypse, so we're good on soup."

"Okay," Maya said. She smiled and squeezed his hand, too. "Get Dr. Neil on the tv, man, we've got twelve science hours to watch."

He laughed and turned back to the tv. She fell asleep and wondered if her face would hurt because she fell asleep smiling.


End file.
